


Delineation

by LogicGunn



Series: Delineation [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Jealous John, M/M, Misunderstandings, Oblivious John, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:40:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27435187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LogicGunn/pseuds/LogicGunn
Summary: The first time John catches Rodney walking out of Major Lorne’s room at oh-something-hundred in the morning he’s been drinking with the Marines, and so when he wakes up in the afternoon with a pneumatic drill in his head and a mouth like the ass of a camel in the Danakil Depression he assumes it was some kind of alcohol-induced hallucination and lets it go.
Relationships: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Series: Delineation [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2005948
Comments: 29
Kudos: 124





	Delineation

**Author's Note:**

> A little jealous and oblivious John to cheer up anyone who needs it this weekend. x

The first time John catches Rodney walking out of Major Lorne’s room at oh-something-hundred in the morning he’s been drinking with the Marines, and so when he wakes up in the afternoon with a pneumatic drill in his head and a mouth like the ass of a camel in the Danakil Depression he assumes it was some kind of alcohol-induced hallucination and lets it go.

The second time John catches Rodney walking out of Major Lorne’s room at oh-something-hundred in the morning he’s just gotten back from mediating a cabin-fever induced fracas in the gate room between Sergeants Nikolas Hansen and Rick Myers and he’s in a mood, so when Rodney turns down the corridor he hides behind a water feature and waits until he’s vanished out of sight, his heart thumping and his hands clenched into fists.

It’s not that John’s a homophobe, far from it, in fact, it’s just that DADT is still in effect (no matter the rumours from Earth) and Rodney could stand to be a little more discrete about things. If they get caught by someone, John will have to intervene. Officially. It won’t do a damn thing to Rodney, being a civilian and a scientist and, you know, _Canadian._ But Lorne’s a damn good 2IC, has strengths that counter John’s weaknesses and a steadfast reputation that goes a long way to smooth over the ruffled feathers of the Marines that baulk at being commanded by an Air Force officer. If John is forced to send him back to Earth it will be an absolute travesty. If something ever happens to John, he trusts Lorne to take over command, knows that he’ll always do the right thing even if it’s not the easy thing, that the city and its inhabitants will be safe in his hands. If Rodney fucks that up with his late-night visits and his dopey smile and his god damn fingers fastening his shirt buttons in the corridor, John’s going to kill him with his bare hands.

He’s going to have to have a word. A strong one.

***

“Hey, McKay.”

Rodney looks up from his laptop. “Sheppard.”

“D’you have a minute?”

“Sure.”

Rodney gets up from his workstation and closes the door. “What’s up?” he asks.

“Look, it’s come to my attention…and I mean I get it, really I do…but if the wrong kind of person was to find out…”

Smooth, John, real smooth.

“Whose…and…what?” asks Rodney, his face scrunched into confusion.

“What I mean is I know about what you and Lorne are doing, and there are reputations to consider and careers on the line and Lorne’s a damn good officer, I really don’t want to lose him, so if you could maybe, you know, be a little more subtle about it, that’d be great.”

“Oh. I see.”

“It’s not that there’s anything wrong with it, not in the slightest. It’s fine. Great even. It’s just that if word got out…”

Rodney crosses his arms and narrows his eyes. “I would never do anything to jeopardise Major Lorne’s reputation with the rest of the military grunts.”

“That’s great, buddy, Glad we’re on the same page.”

***

And he is glad, really. What two consenting adults do in their downtime is none of his business. And Lorne’s been acting different lately, all loose-limbed and easy smiles, it’s a good look on him. John’s happy for them. Yup, absolutely.

And so John doesn’t catch Rodney leaving Lorne’s room again. Not that he’s trying to, of course. It’s just that it’s good leadership to take the nightshift on occasion, and even _better_ leadership to get his hands dirty and take on a few patrols around the city to help out. Let the men know that he remembers what it’s like to be them. That even though he’s _the_ man, he’s still just _a_ man. And if he uses his status to snap up the patrols of the living quarters, well that’s just showing his men that he trusts them with the more dangerous parts of the city and doesn’t need to be breathing down their necks all the time.

It bugs him, though. Not knowing if Rodney’s still sneaking in and out of Lorne’s room. He doesn’t do anything so crass as to imagine what they’d look like, the two of them laid out on the bed together, naked and entwined and sweating, all that skin and muscle and heaving breath, hands clasped and thighs- no. They must still be seeing each other, though, because Lorne still looks like someone who’s getting it on the regular, and Rodney sometimes heads over to talk to him in the mess, tray in hand, exchanging a few words before coming over to sit with the team. If John’s stomach does some kind of free-falling, fluttering, crash-landing thing in those moments, it’s only because his lungs are momentarily forgetting to breathe and he’s not getting enough oxygen.

***

He pushes it out of his mind. There are close encounters with the Wraith and close encounters with the Genii and close encounters with the vacuum of space to keep him occupied, and Rodney starts spending more and more of his free time in the labs so he must hardly be seeing Lorne at all. Lorne takes longer and longer shifts, days and nights and sometimes both, one after the other, but it doesn’t seem to be having a detrimental effect on their relationship; if anything their working relationship is thriving under the pressure.

John finally catches Rodney going into Lorne’s room one night, completely by accident when he’s passing through to get to- well that’s neither here nor there. It’s been a week or two since the last disaster, and Rodney doesn’t even notice John behind him, is actually _unzipping his jacket_ in his haste before he knocks. When the door swishes open, John hears him saying _I only have an hour_ before it slides shut again, separating John from him with three inches of soundproof Ancient alloy.

An hour. Time enough for something unhurried, but not time to linger afterwards… but John’s not thinking about that. He heads back to control to check in with Chuck before he goes to his room to try to wind down. He changes into his PJs, washes his face and brushes his teeth, then settles down in his bed to read War and Peace, something he hasn’t had time to do for months. His eyes scan over the words, but nothing actually makes it to his brain. An hour, Rodney had said nearly forty minutes ago. An hour to…what? Lie on the bed, naked, grinding against each other? Or maybe Rodney fell to his knees the moment he the door shut, unzipped Lorne’s BDUs and took him into his mouth. Perhaps Lorne was already prepped and ready for Rodney to fuck him, slick with lube that he snuck from the infirmary. Maybe Rodney bent him over his desk and is fucking him right now, his strong and powerful thigh muscles slamming him into Lorne over and over and-

John’s hard as a rock at the thought. He cups himself, pinching the inside of his thigh to calm his body down. The last thing he needs to be doing is jerking off to thoughts of Rodney _thrusting_. That way lies madness. It’s been forty-five minutes. Maybe it’s all over already and they’re lying together, catching their breath, or getting dressed and talking softly. Is it just sex? Or is there something more? They seem an unlikely couple – Rodney the workaholic with his Canadian wit and his inability to suffer fools, and Lorne with his all-American boyish charm who has never met a Pegasus or Milky Way trader he can’t sweet-talk into a better deal. What do they see in each other? What do they talk about?

The more John thinks about it, the more he convinces himself that it must be purely physical, and that…well it doesn’t make him feel better so much as make him feel less freaked out. If it’s purely physical between them, then it won’t get in the way of John and Rodney’s friendship. It’s not like Rodney’s been ignoring John recently, he’s been turning up for team movie nights when they’ve been able to have them, still eats his meals with them, plays chess a couple of times a week…but there’s a little niggle in John’s brain screaming that if Rodney has had more spare time to spend with Lorne, why didn’t he spend it with John instead?

John looks at his watch again. It’s been fifty-five minutes. If he was to head out to get a cup of Athosian tea from the mess hall, he might bump into Rodney as he leaves. And if he bumps into Rodney, he might…what, know more about their relationship? Is he really that interested? Apparently he is because he’s jamming his feet into his sneakers, War and Peace falling to the ground in his haste. He rushes out of his room and half walks, half jogs down the corridor and around the next junction, just in time to see Rodney slip into the transporter. He watches the door close on Rodney’s curved ass and collapses against the wall, panting. He hears someone’s footsteps, so he pushes off the wall and tries to look casual, passes Miko Kusanagi with a nod and is about to turn the corner when he hears Lorne’s voice behind him.

“Miko, thanks for coming by.”

He turns quick as a flash to see Lorne step out into the corridor to greet Miko, watches them exchange an Athosian head tilt as he gestures her ahead of him into his quarters. _That rat bastard, how dare he-_

Before John can stop himself, he feels himself striding back down the corridor, his fist colliding with the side of Lorne’s face, knocking his second onto the ground as Miko comes rushing out of the room and tries to step between them.

“Colonel Sheppard!” she all but yells as Lorne pushes up with one arm, the back of the other hand pressing against his bloody lip. John stands there awkwardly as Lorne gets up, helped by Miko, his eyes fixed on his CO in case of another attack.

“I take it I’ve really fucked you off, Sir,” he says, taking a step back. It’s a testament to how good a man Lorne is that he doesn’t take a swing at John, he has every right to despite being his subordinate.

“I, uh…” John searches for something to say but feels his rage slipping away like a low tide.

“Do you want to step into my room and talk about it, sir?” asks Lorne. “Or do you want to make it official?”

It’s not a threat. When Lorne says _official_ he doesn’t mean he’ll make a complaint, he means John writing him up for whatever he’s so pissed about.

“Maybe…we should…yeah. Talk.”

Miko looks between them, but Lorne just nods at her and tells her they’ll meet up another time. It’s not until Miko heads back into Lorne’s room and comes back out with her laptop that John starts to think he’s missing something here. When she’s gone Lorne gestures John into his room, just like he did Miko a minute ago. When John steps in he’s greeted with an unexpected sight. The bed is pushed against the wall and there’s an easel set up in the middle of the room. All over the walls are charcoal sketches, and as John looks closer he recognises lots of faces from Atlantis and a fair few from the SGC, including O’Neill and Teal’c and Jackson. His eyes are drawn to the picture still on the easel, a coloured pastel picture of Rodney sitting at Lorne’s desk, his laptop open and his hands typing. The angle is unusual, taking in the slope of Rodney’s nose and his crooked mouth, the expression on his face one of serene concentration, the way Rodney looks when he’s in his element and working on something Nobel-worthy but not life-threatening.

Lorne brushes past John to open up his mini-fridge, pulls out a bag of ice and wraps it in a t-shirt. He winces when he presses it to the side of his face.

“You have one hell of a right hook, sir,” he says.

“I’m sorry,” says John quietly, and he means it.

“Any chance you’ll tell me what I did so I can not do it again?”

So John tells him. He tells him that he saw Rodney leave his room a few times and put two and two together and made sixty-nine, that he’s been trying to make sure they didn’t get caught out by anyone, that he thought Lorne was cheating on Rodney with Miko. To his credit, Lorne doesn’t laugh or get mad, doesn’t so much as smile or frown. He listens attentively, almost in parade rest except for the hand holding the icepack to his face. When John’s done, he only nods, dropping the icepack on the bed.

“I’ve been asking people to pose for a while now,” he says. “Mostly charcoal sketches, but Rodney was feeling impatient sitting still, so I asked him to bring his laptop and work while I drew him. He has an interesting face and a unique form, it’s been a challenge to capture his personality on paper and he’s been agreeable enough to come back a few times.”

“Oh. Christ, Lorne, I’m so sorry.”

“You were defending Rodney’s honour, Sir. I can’t fault you.”

“I was totally out of line. If you want to press charges, I won’t contest it.”

“I’m not going to do that sir. But two things.”

“Name them.”

“One, I have something you should take with you.” Lorne opens a drawer and pulls out a large, plastic folder of sketches. He flicks through them and pulls one out of the pile, gently sliding it into a brown A4 envelope. He hands it to John. “Open it when you’re alone, sir.”

“What’s the second thing?”

“Tell him how you feel.”

John schools his face into something neutral. “Major-“

“I’m not asking, Sir. I wouldn’t tell, either. I don’t know anything. But…life is short.”

John looks down at the envelope and nods once. It’s as much as he’s willing to give, even for Lorne. “I’ll take your words under advisement.”

Lorne smiles, then winces as his lips stretch out. “If that’s all, sir?”

“Uh, yeah Major, that’s all. See you tomorrow.”

“Good night, sir.”

When the door snicks shut behind John, he starts to feel like an ass. He heads back to his room and sits on his bed, twirling the envelope in his hands for a while before pulling out the sheet of paper inside. The sketch is entirely charcoal, confident lines on textured paper and it’s been sprayed with some kind of fixative to stop it smudging. Rodney’s hunched over his laptop, his eyes brimming with intelligence and his mouth fixed in determination. It’s like any day in the lab, except that he’s totally naked, his limbs sturdy, the muscles bulging where his thighs are pressed against the seat, the crease of his soft stomach. His cock sits snuggly between his thighs and the chair, explicitly drawn with just a hint of eroticism, thick and heavy and masculine. It’s like he’s not even aware that he’s unclothed and being drawn, his attention is entirely on the screen in front of him. Lorne’s captured Rodney’s whole and his parts, his personality and his physicality, unfiltered and unaltered. 100% pure Rodney McKay. John’s never been one to care for art, but this picture gives him such emotion that he can barely contain it.

There’s a knock on his door, and John rushes to push the picture back into the envelope so no one can see. The knocking gets louder and louder, more impatient with every second that passes.

“Hang on, hang on.”

He stuffs the envelope under his pillow and opens the door.

“What on Earth happened?” says Rodney, dropping his hand. “It’s all over the labs. Did you really punch Lorne? Oh my god, are you going to be court-martialled?!”

John smiles at Rodney’s concern and takes a step back.

“Come in, McKay,” he says.

**Author's Note:**

> I've had Lorne doing live sketches down as a personal prompt for a while now. This fic was a long time coming. :)


End file.
